DenNor week 2015
by Hanatamago2204
Summary: Short oneshots for DenNor week
1. Day One

**You are my bestest friend**

"Jens" Lukas' soft voice tickled his ear. They were lying on his big bed, blankets draped over them. The only thing that broke the darkness, was his little bunny light, that was plugged into the power outlet next to the door. It helped Lukas sleep, he had told Jens once, blushing with embarrassment. It didn't bother the Danish boy, he also had a light on when he slept. You never knew when the scary monsters would decide to come out from underneath his bed. And yes, he was sure there were monsters under his bed. He just couldn't see them.

"What is it, Lukas", Jens whispered back, looking at his friend next to him. It proved to be difficult, his eyelids were heavy and he felt tired after having played in the ever falling snow all day. Instead of answering, the smaller boy grabbed his hand, fingers cold. He let out a sigh as he started to caress Jens' bigger hands. It felt nice, the taller one thought, closing his eyes again.

"You are my bestest friend, Jens." The words pulled him out of his half sleep, that Jens had fallen into shortly after closing his eyes. He squeezed Lukas' hand, happy with the confession.  
"And you're mine", he said. Then, they both stayed silent and slowly drifted off into pleasant dreams.

* * *

Welp, I'm going to try to do this. I don't know if I will be able to, but we'll see!

~Hana


	2. Day Two

**Beer talking**

The whole room smelt like alcohol, sweaty people and cheap junk food. Lovely. Sindre grimaced as he watched the other people, who lived in his dorm, get completely pissed, stoned and god knows what else. No, parties were not his thing. But, it was Christmas and he had no money to fly back home to his family in Norway, much like all the other exchange students. Which was why they had all gathered for a 'proper party', as Gilbert had insisted when he had invited everybody through the P.A. The Norwegian shook his head when he remembered that day. All of Gilbert's friends had started to cheer in the lecture and the poor professor, a young woman from Ukraine, had started to cry. Not that that was anything new. Sindre thought she might just be a very emotional person.

He sighed and took another sip from his drink. Someone he didn't know had pushed a beer into his hands. Not that Sindre complained, he liked the drink, and if it was free… Who was he to complain. A slight smile spread to his face when Elizabeta hit the host with her pan. For some reason, the Hungarian thought that a frying pan was one of the most convenient weapons to use. _Oh well_ , the quiet blond thought while shrugging, _at least this way Gilbert stays calm._

To be honest, the slender male would have preferred to stay in his own dorm and just read a book, perhaps even study. But his roommate Daan had bribed him with Danish butter cookies, and the one's the Dutchman brought, were the best Sindre had ever tasted. So, he went along, only to lose his roommate the second they entered.

"Hey gorgeous, mind if I sit next to you?", a loud voice asked, and the owner promptly sat down next to Sindre without waiting for a response. "Ahh, parties with free drinks are the best, don't you think?", the man said, smiling at the other and sticking out his hand. "My name's Lasse. You new around here?" The smaller one shook his head and took Lasse's hand.

"Sindre. No, I normally don't go to parties. A bit too much noise."

"Oh. What made you change your mind?"

"Danish butter cookies. Daan bribed me", the Norwegian explained, glad that the other didn't insist on flirting more. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Ah, so you're the guy who's addicted to those things. Thanks for the compliment, I bake them myself. And if they're good enough to get you out of your room, then you must really love them. Daan already told me how much you enjoy being on your own. Assuming that you are his roommate."

The silent male next to him nodded, and Lasse smiled widely again.

"Nice to meet ya, then." Again, a curt not from Sindre. "You don't talk much, do you", the loud male commented, patting the other's shoulder, only to have his hand swatted away.

"You just talk too much", he said coolly, glancing at Lasse. Only now did the Norwegian notice how handsome the obnoxious male was. He had little freckles spread out over the bridge of his nose and just underneath his eyes. And those eyes… They were blue like the fjords and the sea back at home, like the northern lights that he missed so much here in the loud and light polluted states. Because he was so captured by Lasse's eyes, he almost didn't notice the girl that walked into the room.

 _Oh shit_ , he thought when he managed to tear his gaze away from Lasse, who was still rambling about something. Of all the people that could walk in here, of all the many, many people that lived on this earth, Alice had to be the one that visited this party. The gods didn't seem to favour Sindre that night. The British girl spotted her ex soon, and she started to make her way to the Norwegian and the Dane on the couch, a smug smile on her face. Truth was, Sindre and she hadn't parted in a very good way. They broke up because they were very competitive, still were. On the rare occasions the two met, they still held little contests and compared each other to themselves, hoping to be the better one.

At a loss what to do and not in the mood to talk to the blonde, he looked back at Lasse, who had just finished a sentence and was now smiling brightly at him. The blue in his eyes seemed deeper than before and Sindre felt the need to dive into them, swim in them until he was too tired and would drown. The loud idiot was lucky he was handsome, that made him a little more favourable, the Norwegian mused, until an idea popped up into his head. Without thinking any further about it, he closed the gap between him and Lasse and gently pressed his lips to the Dane's, drawing a surprised soft yelp from the larger male. The spikey blond wanted to move away, but he felt the other's slender arms move around his neck and he just gave up. The kiss wasn't that bad, it was really nice, to be truthful. Sindre was pretty, and if Lasse didn't have to get him 25 drinks for a kiss, he would be the last one to complain.

When they finally broke apart, the Norwegian's pale cheeks had turned a little pink and Lasse couldn't remember if they had been before or if the other was indeed blushing.

"So… What was that for?", he inquired a few moments later, noticing that the man who had just kissed him was not going to talk. The Dane was right, because Sindre walked away instead of giving him an answer, and for a moment, he just stared at the lithe male, flabbergasted. He also noticed that he loved watching the man walk away, because he looked very good from behind as well.

Unfortunately for the Norwegian, Lasse was not going to give up that soon. With a swift move, he got up from the sofa and trailed behind his offender, finally catching up to him in the doorway to the balcony.

"Hey, I kind of want to kno-" Loud cheers interrupted him and the two males looked confused at the other guests. For a moment, Sindre looked around, trying to find out what they thought was so funny, until Lasse nudged him and pointed above their heads with a wide grin. A mistletoe. Tonight couldn't get worse, could it?

"Well, it seems we have to kiss again", Lasse said, winking at the smaller male in front of him. "Not that I mind."

Sindre frowned, but then leaned in another peck on the lips. Then he walked out, shortly followed by the Dane.

"So, you're not going to tell me what's going on and why you kissed me?"

"We were standing under the mistletoe?" The Dane rolled his eyes, but then laughed.

"You're a funny guy, Sindre."

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

"Maybe. Depends on your story. Also, you're cute, so I can't make any promises." The Norwegian was blinded by the Dane's flashy smile again.

"Well…" The slender male felt very embarrassed now, his reason wasn't that great after all. "My ex walked in. And we kind of have a strange relationship now and I just didn't want to talk to her."

"Oh." Disappointment spread over Lasse's face and Sindre felt bad. If someone had done that to him, he probably would have been angry. It made no sense now, looking back. He wanted to apologise to the man standing there, shoulders hanging and eyes not sparkling anymore. But before the Norwegian could even open his mouth, Lasse had his open and talking again. "So… If I'd ask you out on a date, you'd say no? Oh, what am I saying, you're probably not even into men, why am I-" For the third time that night, his lips were sealed by Sindre's.

"I'd say yes. Assuming that you are asking me out." Yeah, his behaviour was definitely not right tonight. Probably the beer talking. But boy, was he glad that Daan had dragged him out this night.

* * *

Prompt for this one was mistletoe, and only after I wrote the kiss, I remembered that, so I quickly had to add that. Which is why the whole thing makes no sense and is horrible. Sorry..

~Hana


	3. Day Three

As you may or may not have noticed, I started to experiment with the names for them...

Sindre- Norway

Jens- Denmark

Halldór- Iceland

* * *

Just this once

In the middle of the night, tiny footsteps were filling the halls with a shuffling sound. Slowly, as if not to wake the occupants of the room, the door to the master bedroom was opened and the little rascal that had awoken from his slumber entered. In the gigantic bed, two silhouettes laid. Completely still and very familiar. They immediately calmed the young one down.

However, the two adults lying in their bed, had awoken as soon as their door opened. A few burglars and raids had made them more cautious in the night, their minds jumping into action as soon as the tranquillity from the night was disturbed.

Sindre was the first one to feel the little Halldór on him, being the one sleeping closest to the door. For a moment, the man wondered if he should pretend to be sleeping, but decided against it. With a soft sigh, he opened one eye and looked at the small human sitting on his stomach.

"Hey little one", the adult whispered, taking in the sleepy face and bed hair the child was sporting. Next to the two, the other occupant of the bed moved, eyes half open and his usual smile not awake yet. But as he saw their new companion, it appeared on his lips.

"Is it morning already", he asked, yawning and stretching, laying sneakily laying his arm around his bedpartner that still had the child on top of him. A huff was heard from the male, but Sindre for once didn't glare at the other.

The three-year old shook his head. Without himself noticing, he had stuck his thumb into his mouth again. With a gentle tug, Sindre removed the digit from the child's mouth, not wanting Halldór to get bad teeth from sucking his thumb.

"Want to tell me and Jens what's got you up this early?", Sindre asked softly, brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen into the child's face. Again, the little blond shook his head, crawling over to the spot in between the two adults. His small hands clutched to the smaller male's shirt, while Jens started to gently caress mini human's back.

"Did you have a bad dream?", the cheerful male asked, stopping his hands in the middle of Halldór's back. Sindre felt the child nod more than he saw it, eyes half closed and almost drifting into sleep again.

"That's not nice", he said, turning around to face the child that was still holding onto the fabric of his shirt tightly.

"No", the little one whispered, tears starting to form in his eyes. Sindre quickly pulled the child to his chest, making soft sounds and murmuring reassuring things. However, the child didn't want to calm down.

A little lost, the smaller male looked at his bedpartner. Jens shrugged, not knowing what to do either. But then, a memory flashed in his mind.

"My parents used to distract me by going out when I had a bad dream." The other understood and sighed. The bed was warm and comfortable, but it seemed like the blond clutching his light blue shirt was not going to calm.

"Let's go outside then… Maybe that will help."

Still holding Halldór close, Sindre got up and started to rock him, humming softly and caressing his back and hair. At first it seemed to work, the little human started to breathe a little more regular, sobs becoming a little rarer. Only to return in full glory once more.

"Don't go away… Don't die…", the child choked out in between sobs, shaking his head furiously and cuddling the adult that was holding him. In the meantime, Jens had found his clothes and was now dressed. He quickly walked over and grabbed the panicking child, who started to scream until he realised the other was holding him, again starting to shake his head and whimpering about not wanting to be left alone.

As soon as Sindre had gotten dressed, the two adults left the house, armoured with warm jackets and a blanket to wrap around the child once he would calm down. The cold hit them in the face, taking their breaths away for a second. Snow had fallen in the little hours they had slept, but the skies were all clear now and a lovely dance had started above the three humans. Gentle lights, green, yellow, blues and purples were captured in a sea of movements, swirling and jumping across the star filled darkness.

"Look, Halldór", Jens whispered into the child's ear, gently tapping his shoulder. At first, the four-year old didn't want to look, shaking his head and burying himself into the Dane's jumper. But as the tapping continued, he eventually looked up. And stilled.

His tears stopped flowing and he looked up, hick-upping from the harsh sobbing that had tortured his body moments ago. Eyes were wide with amazement, body still as a statue. Jens flashed a grin to his partner when he felt Sindre's warm arms sneak around him, a kiss pressed to his cheek. Because the other was so tall, the quiet male had to stand on his toes. The three of them stayed out there, until Halldór fell asleep. For once, Sindre decided, the little one could sleep in their bed. Just this once, he told Jens, who smiled like an idiot. They fell asleep, all tangled up in a group hug, still enjoying the beauty they had witnessed before.


	4. Day Four

**You're my saviour, after all**

For once, Denmark had decided to go to a New Year's party. The Netherlands had asked him once, and the other nations had been pestering the cheerful ex-Viking for days. At first, he had rejected. Norway didn't like it too much when he went out for a long time, coming home drunk and waking him up. But the magical nation had given his blessing, and thus the Lego-lover had gone, still a little worried. He knew how much his long-time friend and lover hated being alone.

It was when the whole house was quiet and the Danish country representative had left, that his fears would come. In the darkness, cold, clammy fingers would reach out to the mysterious male, gripping his throat and his heart, filling his ears with awful whispers about how he was not strong, how the others must hate him for being so secluded and sarcastic. When the other was gone for longer than a few hours, scenes from battles fought in previous centuries were played before his mental eyes, leaving the normally composed nation to sob on the floor in panic.

Denmark knew this and he really dreaded going, scared of what would happen to his darling, but the other had practically pushed him out of the house, handing him his shoes and telling him to enjoy himself. They had spent so many New Years' celebrations together and there were so many more to come. So, it was only fair for the other nations to share the happy Dane from time to time.

Truth was, though, that Denmark didn't enjoy himself that much with the others. He never had. Sure, it was nice to drink and joke, make fun of others and just let himself go from time to time. But with worry in his heart and just generally wishing to be with Norway, the night wasn't half as fun as he had hoped. Beer was flowing richly, plenty of food was there. But the tall male couldn't help but long for Norway's gentle arms around him, the comfortable silence they would share underneath a blanket, slowly kissing and tracing every little part of their bodies.

The Dane didn't join in on the silly drinking games. He wasn't as loud and cheerful; his eyes weren't shimmering. Instead, he just stared into the glass in his hand, wishing that Norway were to somehow appear in the white foam on his drink. Of course, that was not going to happen.

At eleven o'clock, he couldn't handle it anymore. He had been gone since five and he had been worrying about his partner the whole night. Once again, he had picked up his bad habit of chewing on his nails, trying to ease his mind, telling himself that the small blond would be fine. But it just didn't feel right to not celebrate the start of yet another year without his most precious friend, the one person he wanted to spend all of his long life with. So, he had excused himself, saying that he didn't feel that well and that he wanted to see Norway. The other countries understood, some of them knew that their Nordic friend didn't handle being alone that well.

On the streets, Denmark saw all kinds of people. Drunk, holding hands, wishing each other a 'happy new year' in advance. The cold biting his face and seeing all the happy humans on the street made him hurry to his house, that he shared with Norway. It was a pretty home, white with a blue door. Usually, in the spring and summer, all kinds of flowers would bloom in their garden, mostly red ones. But now that winter had grasped this part of the earth and had choked all the plants with its icy hands, the garden was blank.

With a nervous flutter in his chest, excited and yet still concerned, the most southern Scandinavian country walked towards the door, unlocking it with his key. He didn't know what he had expected to find, but the darkness he was met with, surprised him. The silence hung thickly in the house, grasping the large man and pressing hard onto his chest. Where was Norway?

It seemed that his lover was not downstairs and hadn't been there for a long time, a cold cup of coffee greeted Denmark when he walked into the kitchen. That could only mean that the beautiful country had hid himself in their bedroom or had locked himself in the bathroom. Neither of the two options were very positive. After quickly glancing at the clock and realising that it had taken him a shocking 20 minutes to figure out that Norway was not downstairs, he ran up the stairs, still in silence.

His mind had been right, the Norwegian was on their bed, lying all curled up underneath the blankets. He had shed his clothes, left them sprawling out on the caramel carpet. Soft sobs could be heard, as well as the rustling of fabric when Norway started to shiver again. He was hyperventilating, eyes wide and scared. When Denmark walked in, the one on the bed barely responded. The sight hurt the tall Dane, it felt as if someone had taken his heart in their hand and had dug their nails into it.

Shushing softly, he hurried towards the cowered person on the bed. Norway felt the mattress dip, but he was so scared by the flashing images in front of his mental eye, that he didn't respond. His body was tense and he felt cold. The terrors had started about an hour after Denmark had left. First, Norway had tried to read a book, watch some television. But there was nothing interesting and the voices in his head kept bugging him, kept luring him into the darkness. When the blond had walked into the kitchen to make some coffee and he had noticed that the lights were off, meaning that he was alone, the terrors had spread out their fingers and grasped him, dragging him down forcefully.

How he had managed to get upstairs, was a miracle to him. As soon as the thoughts and images had started to appear, his whole body seemed to be out of control. Somehow, he had found himself in his bed, all naked and a mess. Then the door had opened, and his saviour had appeared.

"Hey… Shhh… It's okay Nor, I'm here. Shhhh", Denmark whispered, cradling the naked man in his arms, feeling the cold hands grip his shirt, tears wetting the fabric. It really wasn't a pretty sight to see and Denmark cursed himself for believing that Norway would have been alright.

Pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, he started to rock the tense body, caressing Norway's bare back, softly tugging on the pretty hair from time to time. The sobbing seemed to calm down, but the smaller Nordic was still hyperventilating.

"Nor… Nor! Shhh, Nor, take it easy. Count with me, Nor. Breathe in, one… Two…" Denmark counted to four, feeling Norway's chest rise. Then, he told him to hold his breath and the soft Dane counted to seven. The small man then was told to breathe out and Denmark counted to eight. He kept repeating the process, until his lover was breathing normally again.

"There you go, shhh… Feeling a little better yet?", he asked the man in his arms, pulling him closer. He felt how Norway nodded and buried his face in Denmark's chest.

"I'm sorry", he whispered into Norway's ear, pressing kisses down the slender neck. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone. I'm here now, I won't go away…" The man in his lap silenced him by pressing their lips together. Just at that moment, the church bell told them the New Year had begun. Norway smiled gently into the kiss. When they broke apart, he whispered, "Happy New Year." Denmark kissed him again, this time a little warmer, a little longer.

"Yes, happy New Year. Please let me stay with you for another year."

"Of course… You're my saviour, after all", the smaller one whispered, his voice sweet, which surprised Denmark.

"Yeah… I love you, Nor."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Well, I decided to play with my own feelings a little here. I don't like New Years and I feel very scared when it comes to fireworks. Sadly, in my homecountry, everyone lights them the whole day through and it just sounds as if there are shootings the whole day. So yeah, I don't feel that great today.

~Hana

(A happy new year to you guys! It's not even 20:00 h here, but oh well)


	5. Day Five

**Beserking**

Clashing swords, battle cries, axes flinging around in circles like leafs falling from trees. The smell of blood and death lingering in the air around them. This is war. This is where they felt at ease. Their own life fluid boiling in their veins, faces flushed and voices starting to become hoarse. A grin appears on Denmark's face as he sees his favourite Viking fighting, graceful like a cat. Moving around as if he is dancing, Norway brings down man after man, his sword seemingly moving on its own. Death cries roll over the fields, fly into the sky, to meet among the stars and stay there forever. The nightly light illuminates the red snow, red because of the many, many men that lost their lives to the two beserking nations. For a brief moment, the taller one just appreciates the glory his partner emits, how it seems like the small country is in his element while killing and slaughtering everything that stands between him and his goal. Before someone else can take advantage of his absent-mindedness, Denmark turns around and strengthens the grip on his battle axe. His anger is fuelled again; he is ready to charge.

* * *

It's really short, but it's something. And it's late, one day... Sorry

~Hana


	6. Day Six

Skin

Preben looks into the mirror, staring at his reflection. He sighs. Squeezing his skin, his brows knitted together and his seemingly indestructible smile crashed. What did Sindre see in him? Once, he used to be strong, he used to be beautiful and slender. Muscles would stand out profoundly whenever he would wear a shirt and he'd reach out for something. When he laughed and you traced his stomach, you could feel how much muscle he had developed. Without shirt, you could see a perfect six pack. His legs were no different, muscular, but not scary. His smile would be enough to make girls blush; his hair was always styled…

But look at him now. The Dane feels like he switched bodies with someone else. The muscles have returned to a normal amount, his six pack is gone, legs no longer look like he has been training and his hair is dull, slumped in front of his eyes and down the sides. The usually sparkling blue eyes seem to have lost their light and his smile hasn't been seen for weeks. Red marks are littered across his once flawless skin, focussing on his arms and legs. Some of them have turned into scars, some still flaming and crusty, only appeared a few days ago.

Really, it is a mystery to Preben how his lover can enjoy the way he looks. He has lost so much weight, he knows. But he still feels fat. You can almost count his ribs, you can see his hipbones sticking out, but he is still poking the little pudgier part of his body, just above his bottom. The liveliness he's so well known for, has disappeared long ago and these days he just stays in. Sindre came to visit him last week, but Preben was so scared of the other finding out how bad he has been taking care of himself, that he feigned a headache and everything to get his boyfriend out of his house. After that, he cried himself to sleep, new bandages around his arms.

He doesn't remember when things started to go down the drain. All he knows, is that he scared. That Sindre will leave him now, finally leave him, since he doesn't look as handsome anymore. His clothes he used to wear no longer fit him. Preben is pretty sure he won't be able to lift Sindre for longer than a few minutes anymore. No more carrying the other to the bedroom, no more dragging the Norwegian around. Sindre is most likely stronger than the Dane by now. He feels so useless, like a failure. It's a miracle that he hasn't yelled at his small lover, begging the Norwegian to finally realise that he deserves so much better, that Preben is an idiot who can't do anything right and….

The sound of his bedroom door opening lets Preben freeze. His hands are still resting on his hips as he looks around, eyes widening as he sees the one person standing there who was not allowed to see this.

"Sindre…", he starts, trying to smile. But the look on the Norwegian's face shocks him. Neither of them speak, the smaller one just makes his way to the other and gently brushes his fingertips over the now small shoulders that were once so broad and offered safety. Butterfly kisses are pressed onto the scarred skin, wound after wound, scar after scar. Teardrops stain the carpet underneath their feet as Sindre moves down his lover's naked body.

"Preben…", he whispers when he reaches the Dane's stomach, sadness making his voice break. The indigo eyes are stained with the same emotion that was audible in his voice, tears threatening to spill. The Norwegian surprises the other once more by hugging him tight, arms around his neck, face buried against Preben's chest. Unlike he had expected himself to do, he doesn't panic. He just lets the Norwegian gently push him towards the bed, laying him down. The sorrow in Sindre's eyes takes him aback once more, and Preben feels so guilty for letting himself go this much. But his lover doesn't let him talk, he presses his lips to the Dane's.

The smaller one's cold hands are darting of the scarred skin again, feeling every little bump, every little piece of slightly lighter tissue.

"What happened?", he whispers, when he breaks their kiss for a moment, stilling the caressing. Preben immediately feels the cold on his naked body again and he shivers, biting his lips.

"I… I just feel like I'm not beautiful. I'm fat and stupid and you deserve so much better than me. And I know crisps and sweets and chocolate and all the junk food is no good for me and makes me fat and I just…" His voice breaks as the tears finally find their way out of his dull eyes, smearing a wet trail down his cheeks.

He is once more smothered by Sindre's kiss. The quivering lips move down to his neck, to his shoulder, onto his wrist, reaching his hand and caressing his ring finger. Tears fall onto the sheets, and Preben trembles while he fights the emotions from taking over. The Norwegian notices and sits on top of the bed, pulling his lover into his lap. It's scary how thin the Dane is; how many scars have appeared on his arms.

"Please don't hurt yourself… You're too beautiful for that, even if you don't feel that way. It's okay, I don't feel beautiful all the time either. But you tell me that I am, so now it's my turn. You are beautiful. You are funny, you cheer me up whenever I feel down, you put up with my sarcasm and you care for me. Your kisses are the best and I love it when you hug me out of nowhere. Don't ever think that you are not good enough for me, because it would probably be the other way around, if anything." Sindre takes a deep breath and gives the other a moment to let the words sink in.

"You are not fat, you have never been fat either. You were muscular and strong, able to carry me around all the way up the stairs, around the house. You're the most caring person I have ever met, you are annoyingly persistent and look where you managed to get! You have a beautiful house, a stable job, you have me, which was one hell of a ride and you're alive, breathing. I know you probably don't believe me, because it's hard to believe someone else when they say something positive about you. But I really love you and I don't want you to change. I love every little bit of you, even that annoying cheerfulness you have. You're wonderful and I wouldn't dream of leaving you, exchanging you for someone else. I want you and you alone."

By the time Sindre finishes talking, they are both shaking, clutching to each other, tears streaming down their faces.

"I'll help you through this, I promise. I'll stay with you, I'll pick you up from the ground as many times as needed, I'll kiss away your tears, I'll kiss your scars, I'll tell you you're beautiful every day, if that's what helps you. I don't want to lose you, I don't want to leave you. Please believe me when I say that I love you, please let me stay with you." His voice fails him again and he holds onto the Dane in his lap, who is still mute, looking at the smaller one with wide eyes that are overflowing with emotion.

It's not perfect. He's not rid of his depression, his insecurities. He still wants to lose weight and still doesn't deem himself worth much. But he knows that Sindre is not going to give up on him today, he knows that his lover is going to stay with him, lay in bed with him today and hold him until their tears will be dry and they are exhausted from crying. It's not nearly enough to make him love himself, but Preben realises that it's a start, and he's very grateful for it. Still trembling, he brings his tear smeared face to Sindre's and gently kisses him, pushing him down. Then, he pulls the covers over both of them and they hold each other, until the night falls, kissing, crying and caressing. It's not much, it seems so unimportant. Yet it means the world to the Dane.

* * *

Inspired by the song _Skin_ by Sixx A.M.

~Hana


	7. Day Seven

_Name:_ Together

 _Pairing:_ Denmark x Norway

 _Requested by:_ Dreams-Wishes-Hopes

 _Word count:_ 964 (Story only)

 _Kiss:_ Kiss on the forehead

Sequel to _Kiss of Mannerheim_

Together

It was dark around him. The only sound reaching his ears was the sound of the wind howling into his ear, making him think wolves had surrounded them. His mind slipped into unconsciousness again. Because of his unconsciousness, he didn't notice the men approaching him and the male lying next to him. Strong, but wounded hands lifted the two almost frozen bodies from their little snow fort. It seemed like a grave. The men exchanged a few words in a tongue the other humans would not be able to understand, had they been awake.

In his dream, Mathias was floating. His tired body was surrounded by fluffy clouds and sunshine embraced him. Strangely, the golden arms were cold, icy cold, almost piercing his skin while he drifted away, towards his comrade that he harboured forbidden feelings for. The Norwegian soldier had intrigued him when they met at the front lines, Molotov cocktail in his hand, stoic expression and hate burning in his eyes, just like the enemy's tank in front of him. Lukas was a beauty, and dangerous. Mathias had instantly been in love. Never in his life would he have hoped to find love among death.

The cold sunlight kept tickling his skin, making the Dane squirm on his cloud. The cloud creaked under his weight and Mathias frowned, not understanding why clouds made noises. Suddenly, the sky he was drifting through, was filled with voices, screams, murmurs and pants, cries and pleads. It was so loud, so scary. He wanted to wake up, get away from that nightmare. He was scared, so scared. The sounds echoed in his head and frightened him, making him toss and turn. The cloud creaked more and a few of the voices became louder and seemingly closer, scaring the poor man even more.

"Oh, god, he's awake. Oh my god, thank you for this miracle. Quick! Someone get me a-" Mathias didn't listen to the voice anymore, he just opened his eyes and stared into the dim light around him. At first, he couldn't see anything. He shivered, teeth clashing against each other, hands rubbing over his arms feverishly. He didn't understand where he was. The only thing he remembered, were the fingers of Death that had gripped his throat, dragging him into the darkness, away from Lukas.

Lukas!

He failed to sit up straight, he was too weak. He breath was irregular, hands shaking, eyes wide. Lukas, where was Lukas? His body seemed to be unable to stop the frantic trembling as he took in the scent of decay, ugly and making him sick. All around him were beds, stretchers, filled with people, screaming agony, groaning and tearing at their bandages. Some of them had lost a limb, others were blue from the cold. Mathias searched with his eyes, lingering on every lump of human on the uncomfortable stretchers, unable to see anything through the blur of tears.

His nose was running and he tried to sniff, only taking the horrid smell. Eyes burning and cheeks getting wet with the tears, he felt panic rise in his chest. Hyperventilating and scared, that was how the nurses found him. He was drugged and sent back to dreams unreal, Lukas laughing at his side, unharmed and beautiful.

When he woke again, his heart was hammering and the tears returned as he once again found himself in the field hospital. _He can't be dead, please, let him be alive._ In his head, he kept repeating the sentence, like a prayer. Nurses were ushering to his bed again, but he didn't want to speak, couldn't speak. His breathing was still irregular and the small women were trying their best to talk to the Dane, which failed horribly because of the language barrier. When they helped him sit up and started to feed him soup, the liquid feeling hot on his still cold lips, he finally spotted the Norwegian soldier.

"Lukas…", he breathed out, blinking fast to prevent the tears from spilling again. The nurse in charge of feeding him looked confused, following the bright blue stare. When she noticed what her patient was looking at, she patted his shoulder and smiled. Somehow, he sensed that the man that had stayed with him in the cold, was okay. They would be fine.

 _1980, forty years later_

"I was so scared I'd lost you back then", he whispered, nuzzling the ever familiar hair in front of him, getting drunk on the smell. "You were so cold, so _so_ cold. I thought you had died that night. I thought we both had died. But here you are, lying next to me." A warm feeling of gratitude washed over Mathias as he looked at Lukas, who was resting in their bed to his right. They had celebrated their anniversary. It had not been much, they had just shared a lovely dinner together, candles and wine, soft music playing in the background. After the Winter War and the Second World War, they had moved out to the Finnish country side, far away from curious and judging eyes, as it had been wrong for two men to be together at that time. They had grown old together in their warm and joyful home, saved each other from night terrors countless times. They had fallen in love and they had fought. But they had done it together. And that was what mattered.

"I love you", Lukas whispered, before pressing a kiss to Mathias' forehead. "Always have, always will." It was a bold statement for him, not something he'd say often. But just for today, he could. Just today, before they both drifted off into dreams, smiles on their faces.

* * *

Okay, this was requested by Dreams-Hopes-Wishes a while back. They didn't specify which kiss they'd like, so I went with this one in the end. And I have to confess, I bawled my eyes out while writing this. I'm so proud of myself that I was able to keep it under 1000 words. Would have loved to make it longer, more angst and everything. Oh well...

~Hana


End file.
